Division Wars
by Dirty Reid
Summary: There's a civil war going on in Soul Society. However, it's not the usual type of civil war...
1. Dastardly Plans

**Division Wars**

**Dirty Reid's debut Bleach Fic**

**A.N: Well, I've finally branched off into something else; the world must be coming to an end. Inspiration for All Manner of Horror's been kinda slow, so I figured I'd write something funny.**

**Let it be known that I'm not as into Bleach as I am into Naruto, and will undoubtedly get several facts wrong, even though I'm trying my best. If you see errors in my work, please feel free to correct me in the form of a PM.**

**I do not own Bleach**

**Chapter One: Dastardly Plans**

-

Zaraki Kenpachi was bored.

To anyone who knew the violence-loving captain of the 11th Division, a bored Captain Zaraki was _never_ a good thing. A bored Zaraki was an unpredictable Zaraki.

Fortunately- or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it- Zaraki tended to alleviate his boredom in one of three ways. The firs, and least destructive way he coped was simply going to sleep. Napping for a couple of hours left Zaraki content for the rest of the day fifty-fifty percent of the time. The fifty percent of the time that a snooze didn't help him, he was just cranky for the rest of the day.

The second method he used to alleviate his boredom was going AWOL to hunt for Hollows roaming Earth. Zaraki was like a bloodhound when it came to finding Hollows; he smelled them out, and they were never weak ones either. While it did make petty side missions for other Shinigami easier and fewer in number, it was outweighed multiple times by the paperwork he got saddled with. Although, it did feel nice to have the likes of Matsumoto Rangiku, Abarai Renji and various others claim to owe him a favour for making less work for them. They usually regretted that later when he called it in and asked them for a fight.

The third way Zaraki relieved himself of boredom was by far the worst. It was likely the cause of many wrinkles on General Yamamoto's ass-ugly face. The third method was entertaining himself within Soul Society. 'Entertainment' as used by Zaraki, usually meant picking a fight with another captain, scaring innocent people, large explosions, or any combination of that particular variation of 'entertainment'. Captain Kurotsuchi was _still _hounding him to cough up the cash he supposedly 'owed' the mad scientist for blowing up his lab six months ago when he decided to play chemist.

But for some odd reason, none of these ideas appealed to Zaraki today. It turned out that he was bored with his usual routine of boredom-reducing activities.

He wanted to do something _new_! Something _exciting_! But ever since Aizen had betrayed them and took Ichimaru and Tosen with him, between battles with Bount, Arrancar and all manner of things evil, the Boss had been keeping them down and on a leash tighter than… something. Zaraki chuckled a little bit when he couldn't find something crude to compare being kept on a leash to. That laugh felt good.

Zaraki kept chuckling for a second until he suddenly silenced himself so quickly, one would have thought that someone had just pushed a 'mute' button. If one could see the proverbial lightbulb turning on above Zaraki's head, they would have probably thought a nuke had just gone off.

'… _Head for the hills bitches, the biggest badass out here is on the warpath!' _Zaraki declared inside that spiky-haired head of his, grinning in a way that showed his pearly white teeth and clenching his fist, ominous music playing from nowhere. After a moment in his 'Evil Pose', Zaraki hurried out of his private quarters to find Kurosaki Ichigo, the one man he knew he could sweep up into his little scheme and expect to be effective.

It didn't take long to find the energy-emitting carrot-topped kid sitting near the entrance to the barracks, who had very recently been given the 4th seat in his division. Given the trying times on hand, more and more Shinigami were winding up critically injured or dead. With the recent death of the former holder of the 4th seat, Zaraki had immediately requested that Ichigo take the place. While Yamamoto had been hesitant at first, Zaraki had bugged him for a week before the old man had caved and bestowed the former substitute a division robe and a rank.

While Zaraki had been expecting some resistance from the kid, he was a little surprised when Ichigo took the position without hesitation. When he asked why he didn't protest getting more roped into Soul Society's affairs, Ichigo simply replied that he respected his captain enough that he was willing to follow him into battle, even until the end. Had he been less of a hard ass, Zaraki would have said he was touched by the kid's words. Yachiru had jumped and cheered for joy when she finally got the chance to tell 'Ichi-chan' what to do all the time. At first, Ichigo had not liked being ordered around by his pinkette lieutenant, but he eventually learned to roll with it. As an added plus, Yachiru gave him a little more authorative power, and usually allowed him to act as temporary leader of the 11th when she and Zaraki were off on a mission, or sometimes. Of course, Madarame Ikkaku wasn't too happy about this, but he wasn't about to pull rank on a guy that could fight on a level equal to that of his captain; not when violence was an acceptable method of quelling dissention.

Ichigo looked up from the human newspaper he was reading and gave his captain the little half-grin that had become his trademark over the past three or four months. But for the life of him, Zaraki couldn't figure out why the kid thought a woman blushing when he grinned like that was a bad thing. It almost made him think that Carrot Top was a closet homo.

"Hey taicho," Ichigo greeted him shortly. Aside from Captain Unohana, Zaraki was the only Captain Ichigo addressed as such. With Unohana, it was because she took such good care of him as a result of his frequent fights with his captain. With him, it was because of his respect for the man. "Coming back for another beating?" he asked, the grin changing to a smirk, which Zaraki returned.

"Not this time kid. Fightin' you's fun but… wow, this is hard… I'm so bored that even that wouldn't entertain me." Zaraki jerkingly admitted. Ichigo's eyebrows shot up.

"The great Zaraki-taicho _isn't_ looking for a fight? Dear God, the Apocalypse is upon us! Head for the hills!" Ichigo mock-cried while not bothering to hide his grin. Again, Zaraki relished in the pleasure a short laugh brought him.

"Nah, I got something a little more entertaining planned." He said almost cryptically, gaining Ichigo's full attention.

"I'm listening," he answered, shoving the newspaper aside and turning around. Zaraki looked around, as though suspecting they were being watched, before he crouched down and leaned in close to his 4th seated officer, the bells in his hair tinkling softly.

"Answer me this kid," Zaraki began "d'you feel like things have gotten boring around here lately?" he finished. Ichigo's brows went from high to furrowed at such an odd question. Nonetheless, he thought about it for a second.

"Hmm… Yeah, it's been a little too quiet around here. This whole war's leaving no room for any free time or fun." He admitted. Again, he quirked an eyebrow "Why do you ask?" Zaraki grinned a grin that promised pain as he looked across the Seireitei.

"Well, I figured that I'm not the only guy suffering from boredom and pent up stress, so I came up with a solution to the problem that I can't do without your help." Zaraki answered vaguely. Ichigo knew that his captain was leaving him hanging for dramatic effect, so he simply played along.

"And what exactly is your plan, O Elevator of Boredom?" Ichigo asked, mocking his captain with a name playing on his plot. Zaraki ignored the playful jab and grinned.

"Quite simple really: I'm going to start a war." He answered. The colour in Ichigo's face drained like it had been flushed down a toilet.

"You're going to _what_?!" he exclaimed, preparing to stand up and unsheathe Zangetsu. Zaraki knew that the kid would misinterpret his master plan and held up his hand.

"Don't get your zanpakuto in a knot kid, I didn't mean a _war _war." He clarified exasperatedly. Ichigo, who had stood up and had his hand on the hilt of his blade, relaxed slightly.

"What other meaning is there to the word 'war'?" he asked with narrowed eyes. Zaraki shook his head and chuckled. _'Man, laughing feels good,' _he thought.

"The kind of war I'm thinking of doesn't involve weapons or bloodshed." He explained, that maniacal grin that promised pain returning to his face. "No, this war only uses one weapon: Practical jokes." Zaraki explained. Ichigo looked rather dumbfounded.

"A war that uses… Oooooooohhhh," he made a noise of understanding as comprehension of Zaraki's words filtered through his brain. "You want to start a _joke_ war!"

"Exactly," the captainof the 11th replied "I want to start pulling practical jokes on people and blaming it on others, leading up to all of the Gotei 13 plunging into chaos as they reel from the onslaught of laughter-inducing traps and stunts and plot their revenge against others with schemes equally as hilarious. And while the war rages, you and I will be sitting on the side, laughing our asses off at the humiliation and scheming brought on by the war we created." Zaraki proclaimed in a dramatic narration of the utter carnage to come. Ichigo actually laughed.

"While all of this sounds funny taicho, there is a problem: What if we get caught? I'm pretty sure sooner or later someone is going to get suspicious when we're sitting back and watching them battle it out because of wounded egos and humiliation. That's not to mention the fact that we have no idea if the other divisions will retaliate with their own practical jokes and this war will take off" He explained. Zaraki nodded in understanding.

"Way ahead of ya kid. This is where our acting skills come into play. Unfortunately, we're going to have to 'involve' ourselves in this war and make it seem like we're getting pranked too. And trust me, the others will react to our assaults with the same sort of violence; their pride demands it. Sure, we might have to swallow our egos a little bit and hurt ourselves, but trust me, watching the other divisions run around in the midst of prank battles like chickens with their heads cut off will be _totally_ worth it." Zaraki answered. Ichigo seemed to mull over the plan a little bit while stroking his chin before nodding slowly.

"Coming from a guy who charges headlong into battle to get the best fights, that's actually a pretty solid plan. I'll go get Yachiru," he turned to leave but was stopped by Zaraki's iron grip on his fist.

"No, we can't involve Yachiru with this. Our operations have to be kept a secret, and she'll blab to anyone if they give her candy. Sorry to tell you kid, but the army's made of just you and me." Zaraki said with a shake of his head. Ichigo lowered his arm and Zaraki released him.

"Okay then, it's just you and me." Ichigo agreed. He turned to his captain and laid his hand over his heart. "Our mission will be fraught with perilous twists, turns and obstacles. But as members of the 11th Division, it is our sworn duty to prove our superiority above all others, and emerge victorious in this battle of laughs!" He proclaimed grandly. Zaraki similarly covered his own heart.

"Then upon this day, let the Division Wars be joined! May many schemes be made; may many egos be bruised; may much pride be wounded! But most of all, may boredom be killed and laughter reign supreme!" Zaraki shouted. He removed his hand from his heart, held it up to his mouth and extended his pinky finger.

"MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" the battle-loving captain laughed evilly.

"MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ichigo laughed evilly in answer.

"**MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" **they laughed in discordant harmony, the distinctly menacing tone echoing across the 11th Division grounds and spreading across the Seireitei.

-

In unison, almost every other Shinigami looked up from whatever they were doing. All of them felt a tingle run up their spines as they sensed something foreboding about to happen. The faint, evil laugh on the wind didn't help matters either.

'_I have a bad feeling about this,' _was their unanimous thought.

-

**Aaaaand, cut! First chapter is finished. Yeah, I know, it was kind of boring, but it's really supposed to be the calm before the fog of war drifts in.**

**In case you haven't already guessed, every character in this fic is going to be OOC.**

**Please drop a review for me,**

**Dirty Reid **


	2. First Strike

**Division Wars**

**By: Dirty Reid**

**A.N: Wow, I didn't think that this idea would fly, but once again, you, my loyal fans, proved me wrong! Thank you for all the support and positive reviews!**

**Oh by the way, do me a big favour and check out MrSkull's entry in my Naruto x Prototype Challenge fic. It's called 'Mercer's Progeny' and you can find a link in my profile on my favourite fics list. Thank you!**

**Chapter 2: First Strike**

-

It had been one week since Zaraki-taicho had declared the beginning of the 'Division Wars' as they had both agreed to call it shortly after the fact. In that week, the Captain and occasional acting lieutenant of the 11th Division had initiated the first stage of their war on boredom: Recon.

They didn't sneak around, horning in on other peoples' conversations, stalk certain individuals (Which was impossible in Ichigo's case, due to his inability to control his spiritual energy) or install any spying devices, as that would require that they pay ol' Kurotsuchi Mayuri a visit. No, they simply went about their daily lives, casually observing their cohorts in their daily lives, noting their habits, quirks and routines as possible future information in their still young war.

For the first week, Zaraki casually kept his one beady eye on the captain of the 2nd Division, AKA the Black Ops Unit, Soi Fon. The petite, ninja-like woman was always a cold, rule abiding figure with a generally low opinion of most other Shinigami, not unlike the captain of the 6th, Kuchiki Byakuya. She was constantly aware of her surroundings, occasionally catching him eyeing her covertly, or listening to her speaking with someone else. Her constant alertness and heightened senses would make it very hard to pull a practical joke on her. And even if the did succeed in pulling the joke off, she would not take the humiliation very well and hunt him and Ichigo down before hacking their ding-dongs off and turning them into pincushions with Suzumebachi, her zanpakuto.

One thing Zaraki noted about Soi Fon was her intense contempt for her second in command, Omaeda Marechiyo. The fat man was not a Shinigami because of his strength or by his own will. He was there because of the money that his rich family provided the Gotei 13 in return for his position. If he had been there on his own free will, Zaraki was sure that he would be near the bottom of the unseated officers. Seriously, the man was almost the size of a blimp! Who in their right mind would join a Black Ops Unit when they stuck out like Michael Jackson on a children's playground?! Zaraki reminded himself to not make fun of the King of Pop, who had died recently for reasons he would not divulge. The man was entering the Shinigami Academy with hopes of joining the agents of the Gotei 13 someday.

'_The Hollows and Arrancar he goes up against would probably piss their pants and run away screaming if they were up against him. Heh heh, I'll have to remember to put a request in that he joins my division when he graduates.' _Zaraki thought with a laugh. Back on topic, Omaeda was also a coward. He always cried like a baby when Soi Fon chased him around for doing something that irritated her. And based on some of the rumours floating around the more gossip-loving Shinigami, Omaeda had run screaming from a fight with one or more Hollows on multiple occasions.

'_Which means that I could probably threaten him into doing something for my little war pretty easily,'_ Zaraki concluded, getting up from his sitting position on top of a small smithy and bounding off for his division headquarters, an idea for the first strike in his campaign forming.

Meanwhile, Ichigo was doing some recon of his own. When Yachiru had begged him in the adorable way she did to go to a lieutenant's meeting in her stead, he went with less resistance, the situation being a boon in the war he would soon help his captain wage. At the meeting, he sort of zoned out on what Lieutenant Sasakibe was saying, preferring to send covert glances to the other Shinigami in the room.

After a short scan, his eyes landed on the lieutenant of the 10th Division, Matsumoto Rangiku. Hands down, she was the hottest Shinigami in the business. Aside from being a flake and a flirt, she was always looking for an excuse to get drunk, and always seemed to find them. That vice could be used to his advantage, Ichigo thought. But how to pull a prank on her…?

'_I'll talk with Taicho later, see what he thinks.' _The strawberry assured himself, just as the meeting ended and everyone who was not listening sighed in relief as they filed out. Just as Ichigo was about to turn down the street for his division, he felt a small hand wrap around his lower arm. Knowing that it could only be one person who would cling to him this gently, Ichigo turned to look into Hinamori Momo's soft eyes.

"Hello Momo," Ichigo greeted her quietly. By the look in her eyes, her mood had swung over to gloomy again. It had been doing so for months now, thanks to Aizen's defection.

"Hello Kurosaki-kun," she murmured to him in that timid manner of hers that he just found so… cute.

"You didn't come to your Kido lesson last week," she pointed out softly with no reproach in her voice. That wilted statement played a sad note on Ichigo's heartstrings, and that was saying something.

"I'm sorry Hinamori," he apologized in an equally soft tone, "but you looked so depressed the day before I thought I should leave you be." He told her. The sides of Momo's lips twitched upwards for just a blink.

"Thank you Kurosaki-kun," she said with soft gratitude "but you don't have to leave me be just because…" she trailed off and lowered her head. As he listened closely, Ichigo heard her sniff and felt a pang of sympathy in his chest. In a rare moment of allowing his more sensitive side to surface, Ichigo moved closer to Momo and wrapped his free arm around her. She seized up when Ichigo enveloped her in a hug, but relaxed after a moment and hugged him back, releasing his arm.

"I know," he whispered "but I did anyways." He gently stroked her back, and she instinctively hugged him a little tighter. As he soothed Momo, it occurred to Ichigo that involving her in the Division Wars, whether by moving to strike her or by sweeping her up to join him and Zaraki, might not be the best idea. Humiliation, if just for shits and giggles, would probably send her spiraling even further into depression. At the worst, Ichigo feared that pranking Momo could ultimately end with her suicide. At the moment, Momo deserved someone to comfort her; someone to talk to; a shoulder to cry on. Ichigo set his mouth in a grimace for a moment before he spoke up.

"Listen Hinamori," he began as he withdrew from their hug and looked deep into her glistening, dark eyes "don't take this the wrong way, but maybe we should stop with the Kido training for a while. At least until… well, y'know…" Ichigo tried to explain lamely. Momo grasped what he was talking about and nodded slowly. In doing so, her lower lip started to tremble. Seeing this, Ichigo hurried on with the rest of what he had to say.

"I'm sure you have other people, but if you ever need someone to talk to or sit with or take care of you, you can come to me, okay?" he told her. Momo's eyes went a little wider before they began to shine and she managed a weak smile.

"Thank you Kurosaki-kun," she moved in and hugged him again, "you have no idea how much that means to me." She whispered. Ichigo tightened his hold on her just a little more.

"Anytime Hinamori… anytime." He soothed softly, stroking her back again. For a few more minutes they remained locked together.

"I hate to break this up Hinamori, but I need to report to Zaraki-taicho in a few minutes." Ichigo informed her as he removed his hands from her back. He couldn't help but feel a little warm and fuzzy inside when Momo appeared reluctant to let go of him.

"Of course Kurosaki-kun," she murmured again. Their eyes locked for a moment, Momo's expressing great gratitude and Ichigo's conveying sympathy. For another moment, Momo looked into his eyes. In an abrupt motion, she leaned forwards and planted a swift, petal-light kiss on the cheek.

"Um, I have to… g-go now," she stammered almost indistinctly, wringing her hands and blushing prettily before practically fleeing. Still rooted to his spot, Ichigo was touching the spot where Momo had kissed him, also sporting a blush that clashed horribly with his hair.

'_Now why did she go and do that? I've never seen her kiss anyone else who's tried to help her…' _As he started to meander the path back to his barracks, Ichigo tried to puzzle out why Hinamori had given him that kiss, eventually settling on the conclusion that she was probably just trying to be nice to him.

Why else would she give him a kiss?

A dark cloud barred the moonlight access to the ground of the Seireitei made all that much more ominous as the two evil Shinigami concocted their dastardly plans for war within their dank lair. It was illuminated only by a small light, shrouding their visages and generating auras of purest menace.

"So," Kenpachi began darkly, that nasty, toothy grin never leaving his face, "what have you learned of our 'enemy'?" he asked. Ichigo returned the grin and rubbed his hands together.

"Well, after watching the lieutenants carefully, I have discovered that Matsumoto Rangiku represents a prime target for our first strike. She is by all means a flake, and looks for any excuse to go out and get smashed. If we can catch her when she's three sheets to the wind, I believe we could start our war off nicely." Ichigo reported. "What about you Taicho? Find anyone in need of a good pranking?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. Lieutenant of the Second, Omaeda Marechiyo." Zaraki responded.

"Ninja Wario?" Ichigo raised one of his eyebrows, "Interesting choice there," He commented. **(A.N: It's probably just me, but if you gave him a squiggly mustache, some hair, got rid of the beard and stuck him in a set of overalls, don't you think that Omaeda could look like Wario?)**

"Yeah, well, he'll be easy to use. He's probably the most cowardly bastard I know, so we could use him in our war and threaten him not to talk. Best part is if it's us who threatened him, he probably wouldn't." Zaraki explained. Ichigo was nodding slowly.

"Okaaaay then; we've scoped out two targets, now we have to decide what to do that involves both of them." Ichigo began. Zaraki adopted a thinking pose. For a moment, there was total silence.

"Hmm… I got it!" he exclaimed. Ichigo stopped thinking and turned his attention to his captain.

"Here's what we're gonna do…"

Tonight, the war would begin.

* * *

Ichigo couldn't help but snicker as he casually watched his prey from the well-polished bar. To ensure he didn't stand out too much or get noticed, he slowly raised the glass mug of the spiced house ale to his lips and took a short swig. The strong but light fluid rolled over his tongue, causing a strong burning sensation from the cold. The mild pain was well worth it, he assured himself as he looked over the rim of his mug.

There she was, completely oblivious. Like a gazelle grazing on the savannah as he, the fearsome cheetah, slowly closed in on her. Her companion knew of his presence, having raised his sake saucer in a greeting at the beginning of the night.

The plan was quite simple, almost to the point of being laughable. Ichigo would shadow an inebriated Rangiku home, where he would rendezvous with his captain and execute the strike. He took another draught, this one longer, allowing the drink to burn his throat.

"Aaaaaaah, that is some good shit." He sighed.

"You said it," a familiar voice agreed. Though he maintained an outward look of indifference, Ichigo was cursing enough to make a marine embarrassed when none other than Abarai Renji plopped down in the seat to his left. The lieutenant of the 6th hanging out with him would severely compromise his plot and possibly deter the war from taking off.

"Hard day or somethin' Kurosaki? I only see you here when we drag you, kicking and screaming." Renji jibed. Ichigo took it in stride.

"… Well, you could say something like that." He answered with a more friendly tone. In his head though…

'_Fuck, fuck, FUCK! What the hell am I gonna do now!? Renji'll never leave or get drunk_ _in time for me to follow Matsumoto! Why couldn't he have come… earlier…?'_ Ichigo's train of thought went off on an unknown rail when he eyed a certain bottle sitting on the barkeeper's alcohol counter. It was not much smaller than the other spirits it sat amongst, but what made it stand out was the vivid green liquid encased in the glass. The label had no name or brand imprinted on it; it was simply a white background depicting a naked young maiden sitting amongst a halo of vines with her back to anyone who was looking. Her vivid, verdant sheet of hair and eyes contrasted beautifully with her porcelain skin, as did the delicate, butterfly-like wings on her back.

'_Salvation, thy name is la Fée Verte.'_ **(1) **Ichigo almost smiled evilly.

"What're you in for Renji?" Ichigo asked as casually as he could. The redhead let out an exasperated groan and held his head with his hands.

"Taicho's gotten even worse. He's workin' me to the bone now that we're stuck in the belly of the beast and I can't even tell him I went Hollow hunting as an excuse for not doing my paperwork! God, it's a nightmare!" Renji moaned. Ichigo couldn't have hoped for a better way for the night to be heading at this point. Well, he could, but Renji was here so that alternative was shot to hell.

"How bout I buy you a round or two? Make you feel better?" Ichigo offered. Renji lifted his head from his propped arms and stared at the former substitute Shinigami.

"Really?" he asked. Ichigo nodded and rapped his knuckles on the bar.

"Yo barkeep! Shot of Absinthe for my buddy over here!" he ordered. The bartender, a wiry man who looked to be in his early fifties- and was supposedly a former Shinigami- put down the mug he was shining up, slid over to Ichigo's spot, picked up the bottle of la _Fée Verte_, pulled out either a large shot glass or a very small whiskey glass and poured a small amount of the vibrant green spirit into it. He slowed and stopped the flow when the glass was a little under half full, set the bottle back in its spot and placed the glass on the bar. Renji eyed it oddly.

"What is this stuff?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's called la _Fée Verte_. It's a really strong spirit that's supposed to be really good. Now before you go saying it looks like a girly drink," Ichigo cut Renji off just as he was opening his mouth "there's a little tidbit you should know about. If you drink enough of this stuff, probably about three or four shots, there's a good chance that you'll start seeing naked fairies as hot as the one on that bottle." Ichigo explained. Renji was looking at him skeptically.

"S'matter Renji? Chicken?" Ichigo goaded. That set the redhead off.

"Hm! I'll show you, shithead!" he snapped, picking up the large shot glass, raising it to his lips and downing the Absinthe. As soon as he slammed the glass down on the bar, his eyes shot open to their maximum and he doubled over with his mouth open, coughing violently. Ichigo smirked gleefully at Renji's pain, patting him on the back for support a couple of times before he removed his hand and took another swig of his ale.

"I warned you Renji; that is some pretty powerful shit." Ichigo stated. Renji took a ragged breath and sat back up. After his breathing returned to normal, he looked over at Ichigo.

"Whoa, wotta rush!" he exclaimed; he clearly liked the effects of la _Fée Verte_. "Yo bartender! Hook me up with some more of that stuff!" he called. Ichigo grinned a little as his plan started to work. The bartender nodded and promptly poured Renji another shot. Ichigo took another small sip of his near empty mug of ale and looked over at his target. She had gone through quite a bit more sake, and was slurring her words with other patrons of the bar. Ichigo fervently hoped that Renji's shots were more alcoholic than the sake and would get him to leave the bar or get falling down drunk so he could proceed with his plan.

Sure enough, after about five shots, Renji had gone from buzzed to 'look a' my han… han… hand. Isn' tha' funny?' Ichigo was starting to get a little annoyed with being unable to understand the 6th lieutenant's drivel when he noticed Matsumoto staggering to her feet.

"Check please," he called to the bartender, who rang in his mug of ale and Renji's five shots of la _Fée Verte_. Ichigo took a hold of the strip of paper and his eyes widened noticeably.

'_There goes that jacket I wanted,' _Ichigo grumbled as he handed the bartender a wad of bills and hurried out before Renji could notice he was gone. Out on the darkened street, he looked about for a second and spotted Matsumoto's strawberry blonde head weaving about, an indication that she was severely inebriated and would likely not pick up on his inability to suppress his spirit aura. Nonetheless, Ichigo kept his distance, following her at a distance and ducking behind any cover when she stopped on the spot or turned around and slurred threats to people who weren't there.

A little more than half an hour later, Matsumoto reached her small home. Ichigo was a little surprised that a Gotei 13 lieutenant had such a small living space, but did not dwell on the matter. He watched her fumble with her keys and curse openly for about six or seven minutes before she finally jammed the key into the door, wrenched it open and staggered inside before closing the door and not locking it. Either luck was on his side, or some divine spirit was lighting his path.

Not a moment later, Zaraki Shunpo'd up to him silently, accompanied by a nervous-looking Omaeda "Ninja Wario" Marechiyo.

"All present accounted for Taicho," Ichigo reported. Zaraki grinned nastily.

"Um, what exactly am I here for Zaraki-taicho?" Omaeda asked weakly. Ichigo noticed a bead of sweat was starting to roll down his forehead.

"All in good time Fatty; all in good time." The one-eyed man answered vaguely as he gently turned the knob on Matsumoto's front door, opened it silently and lay down on his stomach. When both Ichigo and Omaeda were about to ask what he was doing, Zaraki started to move across the ground… without using his hands or feet. With his arms at his sides and his legs limp, Zaraki slowly slithered into the small house like a big, ugly snake.

"Taicho, how the _fuck_ are you doing that?" Ichigo whispered. Zaraki stopped slithering and looked back at the 4th seat.

"It's all in the stomach muscle control. I'll try and teach you someday. But for now, shh! I think she's still awake!" he ordered in an equally quiet voice. Ichigo and Omaeda froze as they listened for Matsumoto. Above the quiet sounds of the mostly sleeping residential district, they heard the 10th lieutenant stumbling about her home but still unaware of the three interlopers.

"C'mon, quiet and low." Zaraki instructed after they saw her head down the small hall to what was presumably her bedroom. Ichigo crouched and began his slow slink after his captain, and Omaeda got down on his hands and knees to crawl along the dark entry hall, through the kitchen and up to Matsumoto's bedroom door, which was still ajar. Zaraki stood up t allow Ichigo to peer in, seeing as he was the shortest of the three. Omaeda looked in just above Ichigo, and Zaraki took the top. Despite their positions, all three of their jaws dropped when they looked into the moonlight-lit room and saw what Matsumoto was doing.

She had her back to the door and was fumbling with her robe. They heard her curse once or twice before she let her haori fall to the ground, letting the three know that she was wearing a jet black bra. She lowered her head and arms, presumably to her hakama, and pulled them down to reveal matching panties that left two half-moons of her ample bottom exposed as she bent over and struggled to get back up. She finally succeeded and, slurring nonsense all the way, stumbled over to her dresser and banged into it, eliciting a loud and surprisingly clear curse. She fumbled with her drawers for a moment until she found the right one, from which she pulled out a white button-up shirt. The three males felt their blood concentration start to centre around their 'Juniors' when Matsumoto unhooked her bra with one hand and gave them a glimpse of her moon balloons before she began to struggle into the shirt. Eventually, after nine misses and uncounted curses, she managed to slip her arms into the short sleeves and do up two of the buttons with the wrong holes. She flopped down on her bed and was snoring within two minutes.

Omaeda was the first to speak up. "Okay, so, what now? Better yet, what'd you bring me here for? To see Matsumoto naked? Nude photos? You're gonna make me take nude photos of her, aren't you?" he asked 'shrewdly' as a nasty grin made its way onto his fat face. Ichigo and Zaraki looked at each other before they shook their heads.

"No Omaeda," Ichigo denied ominously, so much so that the fat man felt a shiver crawl through his flesh "you're going to get in that bed and spoon with her." Omaeda looked down at the former substitute.

"… _WHAT?!_" he whisper-yelled. Zaraki clamped a hand down on his mouth as they went still as stone. For a moment, they were almost certain that their racing hearts would wake up the ginger-haired siren beyond the door. But they let out the breaths they had been holding when she slept on, drunk as could be.

"Y'know Omaeda, I look at it this way." Zaraki began to explain to the now frightened 2nd Division lieutenant. Ichigo wished he could somehow record this.

"Either A, you listen to us and go in there and spoon with her, or B, you refuse, and Shorty gets to kill you and roast you like the pig you are. Either way, we win. Take your pick." The homicidal captain finished while stroking his trusty zanpakuto lovingly. Ichigo grinned and gripped Zangetsu's handle softly. Omaeda paled even more.

"Okay!" he squeaked quietly "I'll do it!" Zaraki grinned even more as he removed his hand from his sword.

"Good. Now get in there and wait until we come back." Zaraki placed his hand on Ichigo's shoulder and led him away while Omaeda slowly lumbered into the room. The two quickly hurried into the kitchen. Zaraki drew an inch or two of his sword while Ichigo slowly opened Matsumoto's fridge and began to snoop around.

"Cheese… couple dumplings… booze, booze and more booze. Why the hell does she need to go out drinking when she's got a bar right here in her fridge? Hmm… pickles… some sushi… jackpot!" Ichigo raised his voice ever so slightly when he found what he was looking for; something that was crucial to their plan.

A jar of mayonnaise.

"Great. C'mon, we gotta get back n' make sure Fatty hasn't taken off." Zaraki beckoned Ichigo back with his hand and Ichigo came after quietly shutting the refrigerator door. Both were relieved when they saw Omaeda standing rooted to the spot near the foot of the boobylicious Shinigami's bed.

"N-now what?" the cowardly tub of lard asked. Ichigo blinked calmly as he unscrewed the top of the jar.

"Now you gently remove her clothing as stealthily as you can." Ichigo commanded. Omaeda simply stared at him, dumbstruck. For coercive purposes, Ichigo held the jar of mayonnaise out in his right hand, keeping it from falling to the floor by merely his fingers. As soon as he lifted his pinky finger off of the cap, Omaeda started in shock before he began to unbutton Matsumoto's shirt at a snail's pace. Soon, her pale moon balloons were again available for the public to view. Ichigo wished he could cop a feel, but that would compromise their war effort. He was so busy staring and holding the jar that he didn't notice Omaeda moving until he had gently slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties and started to gently tug on them.

Matsumoto giggled.

Omaeda, Ichigo and Zaraki froze again, their faces paling and their hearts racing.

'…' thought Omaeda.

'_Well, at least I got to see her naked… for the most part.' _Zaraki shrugged at his final thought.

'_Dammit, we failed! But what's worse? I'm still a virgin! Dammit God, you couldn't have let me get laid first?!' _Ichigo raged. Imagine his surprise when he heard Matsumoto mumble something.

"Ehehehehehehehe, noooo… that…that tickles Ichi-kun! Don't tease Ran-chan!" she giggled in what was clearly a pleasurable dream.

Two sets of bewildered eyes drifted towards the orange-haired holder of the mayonnaise as Matsumoto returned to silence.

"Looks like you got yourself a fangirl kid," Zaraki teased, patting the still stunned Ichigo on the back.

"… Huh," he exhaled in an almost exclamatory manner "I almost feel bad for doing this now." He grinned before frowning and directing it at Omaeda. "Off with the panties Fatass." He ordered.

Several meticulous minutes and countless adrenalin rushes brought on by Matsumoto stirring- but not waking- her panties had been removed and discarded. The three of them blushed even more when they learned that she shaved _everywhere_.

"Good Omaeda, you finished stripping her, now strip down to _your _drawers." Zaraki ordered, this time unsheathing a small amount of his long zanpakuto. Ichigo put on his best evil psychopath grin, and Omaeda did as he was told, albeit as quietly and as slowly as he could. While the fat man stripped away the layers of his uniform, Ichigo unscrewed the less cold mayonnaise and offered the jar to Zaraki. The bell-haired Shinigami snickered silently as he took a dollop onto his left index and middle fingers. Using his right index finger, he took a small drop of the thick, creamy condiment and wiped it along the sides of Matsumoto's mouth and another small dribble onto her chin. He reached into the jar and dipped his fingers in again, this time spreading the mayonnaise on her right cheek.

Ichigo took his own swabbing of mayonnaise and let it dribble over her stomach. Matsumoto remained still while the 1st and 4th seat of the 11th created their 'painting', much to their relief. As a final touch, Ichigo took one last scoop of mayonnaise and dribbled it over her private area. This time though, she responded.

"Mmm… fill me up Ichi-kun…" she moaned softly. Again, Zaraki and Omaeda looked at Ichigo, who had a dumb smile on his face, which was a significantly ruddier colour, and appeared to be squirming from some sort of discomfort originating from somewhere in his pants.

"Hm hm hm, kid, you are never gonna be safe if she ever decides he wants to see those fantasies carried out in real life." Zaraki commented in amusement. Ichigo did not respond, simply smiling dumbly.

"Hey," Omaeda butted in, getting their attention. Both of them looked away in disgust upon seeing the man's rolls of pasty white fat and coarse chest hair.

"_Fuck_, that's ugly." Ichigo balked. Zaraki nodded and Omaeda turned red in rage, blanching when his glare was returned twentyfold.

"Now get in the bed with her." Zaraki commanded. Omaeda looked at Matsumoto's beautiful, sleeping form and wondered what the mayonnaise was supposed to…

Oh God.

He blanched even further, if possible, when he realized that the mayonnaise was supposed to be mimicking semen, which would further lead to Matsumoto's belief that she had _slept with him _while drunk. Unfortunately for the first conscious 'casualty' of the Division Wars, the two instigators picked up on his hesitation.

"Omaeda, I am _not_ waiting any more. If you do not get in that bed, stay there until Matsumoto wakes up and not say that we were involved in this…" Ichigo's voice lowered significantly as he stalked up to the fat man and began to draw Zangetsu.

"_I will skewer you with Zangetsu and __roast__ you like the swine you are._" He snarled so nastily that even Zaraki felt a part of his skin crawl. Poor Omaeda felt his bladder resisting his control over it.

"O-o-okay!" he squeaked in a pitch no man aside from a castrato should have ever been able to hit. He gently lifted up Matsumoto's comforter and laid himself in the bed. The springs groaned under his great weight, eliciting hushed snickers from the two war-makers. To the surprise of all three of them, and the envy of Ichigo, Matsumoto languidly rolled over and snuggled into the wall of flabby flesh that was Omaeda, burying her face between his moobs.

"Now you just stay there and keep the poor girl from choking on her own vomit while she sleeps, 'kay Fatty?" Zaraki asked mockingly as he began to tiptoe out the open bedroom door. Omaeda made a move to protest, but the sleeping beauty moved and plastered herself against him, preventing further movement from fear of waking her, and the fear of Ichigo following through with his threat.

"Toodles," Ichigo waved goodbye cheekily as he too left the room. As they softly padded away, all they heard was a whimper:

"Soi Fon's gonna kill me…"

Both of them bit the inside of their mouths to keep from laughing as Ichigo replaced the mayonnaise in the refrigerator and slipped out of Matsumoto's house. Zaraki closed the door behind him and whisked off after his subordinate into the night, almost as though they were never there.

* * *

Faint yellow blotches dazzled her dreamless sleep, rousing her from the bliss of unconsciousness. Matsumoto Rangiku clenched her eyes as she returned to the world of the living. She moaned as several perceptions were brutally assaulted.

The first barrage came in the form of a hangover. Her head was throbbing severely, as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to her temples and a jackhammer to the top of her cranium. This called for multiple cups of coffee this morning.

The second wave was that she felt something clinging to her body. It was concentrated in three general areas, her face- mainly around her mouth- her belly and her womanly area.

'_But why those places?'_ she wondered.

The third assault to her senses was a large amount of something pressed against her back; something very warm; something that felt like…

'… _Oh no…' _Matsumoto uttered in her mind as her eyes shot open, coming to a conclusion as to what the sticky stuff plastered around her mouth and on her belly and privates was. She was almost afraid to move and see who or what it was that was lying behind her. After a moment of holding her breath, she began to edge her body around, inch by inch. It took her over two minutes to edge onto her back and stare at the ceiling. From there, she raised her left arm to her face and gently ran it along the side of her mouth. The sticky substance dislodged from her face and stuck to her finger, which she examined above her head.

'_Semen… please let him be hot…' _Matsumoto prayed as she began to edge her head to the right, her horror growing with every millimeter she moved her head. But surely enough, she eventually laid her terrified eyes upon the man she had slept with.

A sparse head of hair with curled sideburns; ovoid face; flashy golden rosary; small, piggy eyes that were gazing at her as though she were about to eat him.

Omaeda Marechiyo; lieutenant of the Black Ops Unit and 333 pounds of fatty ugliness.

For almost three minutes, man and woman looked deep into each other's eyes, both too horrified to say anything.

"… Umm… Good morning, Matsumoto-san…" Omaeda mumbled with a forced, toothy smile.

Matsumoto's eye started to twitch.

* * *

Ichigo softly padded down the hall of the 11th's mess hall, foregoing his jacket and keeping his white haori undone, leaving his toned chest bare for the world to see. He decided not to care as he quietly opened the door and looked around to find his captain nursing a piping hot cup of black coffee.

"Morning," Ichigo greeted his captain with a small but evil grin.

"Morning," Zaraki returned with a grin of equal nastiness. Ichigo grabbed a mug distractedly, pouring himself some coffee and adding the appropriate milk and sugar before sitting parallel to his captain. For a moment, the two sipped their joe in silence.

"When d'you think she'll wake up?" Ichigo asked, obviously referring to Rangiku. Zaraki shrugged a silent unknown. Ichigo looked down at his light brown coffee and unconsciously tightened his grip on his mug.

"Just a thought, but… what if she doesn't freak out?" he asked. Zaraki looked up at him with his eyebrow cocked.

"_What_?" he balked, "I think you're forgetting who you're talking about kid." Zaraki reminded him.

"Yeah, but, think about it; she's a flirt and he's rich. Who's to say that she wouldn't come onto him because of his money? No one said or knows whether or not she's a gold digger, y'know." Ichigo pointed out.

"Oh, she'll freak out, trust me on this." Zaraki replied dismissively.

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH__!_" A shrill scream echoed throughout Soul Society, not long after Zaraki's proclamation.

"See? I told ya." The one-eyed man said smugly. Ichigo smirked in satisfaction.

"Us: One. Soul Society: Zero." He stated, holding out his fist, which Zaraki pounded.

"Let the war begin." The 11th Division captain rumbled.

"**MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA****!" **they both laughed, holding their pinky fingers up to their mouths to increase the menacing image.

* * *

Soi Fon cursed as she bounced from roof to roof, working her arms into a black tank top to compliment her hakama. That traumatized scream had roused her from her light slumber and dreams of black cats, prompting her to investigate. It had come from somewhere in the region of the 10th District, which housed the living quarters and offices of the 10th Division. Now what could have happened here to warrant such a loud response?

Soi Fon got her answer when she saw two people running through the sleepy, but waking streets. As she squinted to examine the point of interest, her eyes snapped to their full width as she processed what she was seeing.

Omaeda Marechiyo, her lieutenant, was running through the street, clad in naught but a pair of tightey-whiteys (_'Oh God, that's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life,' _Soi Fon thought sourly), screaming as though the Devil himself was on his tail. Soi Fon looked back just a little to see what was tailing him. When she saw what it was, she surmised that having the Devil chasing him would have probably been less frightening.

It was Matsumoto Rangiku. Her blood red eyes and the geysers of steam erupting from her nose at regular intervals, accompanied by her ginger-coloured hair flapping about in a manner that seemed to mimic swaying snakes more than made up for her being cheeks to the breeze. Above her head she held Haneiko more like a guillotine poised to behead an unforgiven criminal as she roared after Omaeda like a bat out of hell. Even though it was not her being chased, Soi Fon felt a tingle run up her spine at the demonic sight before her.

"GYAAAH! Matsumoto-san, why can't we talk this through like two civilized Shinigami?!" Omaeda cried, prompting Soi Fon to wonder what had gone on between the two, although their states of dress gave her a pretty good hypothesis…

"… Oh God… Urk!" Soi Fon covered her mouth as she threw up in it, having just envisioned the scenario that the evidence before her pointed to.

"BECAUSE I WANT TO KILL YOU! NOW SHUT UP AND _BLEED_!!!" Matsumoto shrieked like a banshee, running just a little bit faster.

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Omaeda screamed as he kept running for his life.

'_Why the fuck does this shit always happen to me?' _Soi Fon grumbled as she began her search for some toothpaste and a toothbrush.

* * *

**And the games begin…**

**I hope you enjoyed chapter two of Division Wars! Did you laugh? Did you WTF? Is it still too early for Michael Jackson jokes? Drop me a review following the criteria listed below:**

**1) Tell me whether or not you liked the chapter**

**2) Tell me what you SPECIFICALLY liked about the chapter**

**3) Tell me what you specifically DIDN'T like about the chapter**

**4) Recommend a suitable improvement**

**(Optional) Send me a PRIVATE MESSAGE if you would like to request seeing a specific practical joke in a later chapter**

**5a) Please state who the perpetrator(s) and the victim(s) will be**

**5b) Please state what the specific practical joke is, and how it is done if said practical joke is particularly complicated**

**Peace out,**

**Dirty Reid**

**(1) **La _Fée Verte_: More commonly known as 'The Green Fairy' or Absinthe, is a high proof spirit that is said to induce hallucinations, although scientific research says and proves otherwise. I just thought a bit of a French touch was necessary for a story about such _blasé_ characters, _oui_?


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